


i'd burn like paper

by rosegoldblood



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bad Poetry, Character Study, Hopeful Ending, Love, M/M, Out of Character, Poetic, Purple Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldblood/pseuds/rosegoldblood
Summary: it'd all be for you.
Relationships: Leo Valdez/Frank Zhang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. don't let it get you down

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this is without a doubt the most confusing, pretentious, and purple-prose-y thing i've ever written. it's just me waxing poetic, and pretty badly, too. i hope you enjoy anyway.

ꔫ

it starts with fire. it always does. 

and the destruction of his home at the hands of some random scrawny kid with a golden-brown glint in his eyes and a grin that makes heat well up in frank's chest. it's hate, of course, unadulterated anger, red-hot like the flames that were burning across new rome.

hate, and something else. frank can't quite place it and he doesn't want to. it's easier to just pretend that everything is black and white. he loves her, and he hates him. it's easier to just pretend that the churning in his stomach whenever he sees the two talking is jealousy.

except it's _not_ what jealousy feels like. jealousy is like a vice, around his heart, squeezing until he's out of breath, and he knows this; no, it's something else, entirely. it makes him sad and happy all at once and at times when he's looking at leo it feels like he's looking at the sun, all bright and annoying, shining across his skin.

it's annoying. the constant bouncing and glowing like he's the happiest person on earth, like he never had to deal with _anything_ as a child, like frank did. and what was the point, anyhow? "it's not like anyone wants you around," he said, one time. he _lied._ of course he wanted leo around.

it's annoying. it's terrible. it's kind of addictive, actually.

ꔫ

"you're really annoying, you know," frank says, once, despite the weird feeling in his heart that tells him to _stop it_. he ignores it, as he always does. he was getting good at it, saying everything he wanted to say and doing everything he wanted to do even when it felt like there was a hole blasted through his stomach.

they're on top of the mast, (un)lucky enough to have been paired up with each other for the nightly watch. the sky is dark and black and starless, and when leo outstretches his arm, a small fire lit in his palm, it seems pathetic compared to the vast expanse of the world.

his face is shadowed by the flickering light, shades of brown and orange and red, curly-wavy hair falling around his face. a chunk of it falls between his eyes, and frank gets the urge to push it back. he thinks leo is kind of beautiful like this. not that he'd ever tell him that.

"i know," is all leo says back, and though that irritating grin is still on his face, it feels so much more forced. 

a few moments later he climbs down to the deck without another word, and frank spends the rest of his watch consumed by guilt and that weird feeling in his chest again. he wishes it would go away. it doesn't.

ꔫ

leo dies to save the world.

frank knew. he should have stopped him. should have convinced him there was some other way, even if frank knew that really there wasn't. the feeling is back, except so much more intense, and it makes him want to curl into a ball and die. he doesn't understand why his heart is aching and why his head is pounding.

they sit around a campfire when it's over. annabeth extinguishes it five minutes after they start it, leaving them in the dark, and frank is glad, because that's how he feels, and staring into the fire reminds him too much of leo. everything reminds him of leo, in fact, even the stick heavy in his pocket.

of course leo went out in a shower of sparks and flames and a big midair explosion, because that was _him_. he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. and of course his final act was to save everyone but himself, the insecure bastard.

piper snaps at him, face full of tears, and asks him if he's even sad at all. frank doesn't have it in him to respond. 

ꔫ

the first time they say he's back, frank doesn't believe it. 

"he's dead," he said, miserably, to hazel, the first time she had run up to the entrance of his office, bouncing happily, "i know you miss him, but he's dead." voice hollow, bitter. he was the nice, sweet one, but he didn't mind being the one who gave everybody the _truth_.

leo had died to save them all and frank had given him nothing in return. left to wallow, alone, and stare at the ceiling at night and wish he had something, anything, except scraps of memories and feelings long gone. the feeling comes back after being gone for a long while, and even then frank puts off figuring it out. he doesn't ever want to.

even in death leo still lingered around like a bloodstain or the remains of ink rubbed away. but it wasn't death, because hazel had shook her head and pulled frank along to the front of the camp, where a golden dragon and a millennia-old nymph and a boy full of fire and excitement and embers waiting to ignite.

his face is covered with oil and soot and dust as always, crusted blood around the corners of his eyes and along his hands and fingers. he wants to hug him, and squish his cheeks, and cover him in medicine and bandages until he's okay. 

_you deserve the world,_ he thinks. he wants to kiss him, right there, grab him by the shoulders or by the hips and do just that because deep inside he knows he's always wanted to. that the feeling had always been that, the temptation to hold leo to his chest and make sure that no one will ever hurt him again. 

he wants to kiss leo and make sure he's okay, but all he does is nod and smile.

ꔫ

"hey, i heard you're friends with leo," calypso says, one day, voice neutral. frank wants to say he doesn't make a fool of himself whenever someone brings him up, but he can't help it. it's like fireworks going off in his chest.

"we're not really friends," frank replies, voice hesitant and quiet like a prayer, like it always is whenever he talks about leo. calypso doesn't seem to care about what he says, just shrugging it off and sweeping her caramel hair over her shoulder and brushing her fingers through it.

she narrows her eyes at him, like she can see right through. he knows she doesn't. calypso never was the most perceptive type. or the wise type, or the sweet type, or anything, really. frank didn't know anything about her, at all, and he wasn't even entirely sure if he liked her.

"well, we're dating now," she says nonchalantly.

oh, he definitely does not like her.

later, he talks about it to piper and percy and hazel. "isn't it weird?" he questions, "she's, like, a million years old." to which they all laugh, all three of them. he isn't joking, but he lets them anyway. it's not like he knows how to explain how he feels around leo -

not the way that he makes frank feel like his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, like he can't quite articulate anything. not the way that every time leo, by chance, looks at him, mid-laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling, he feels like a deer stuck in headlights. like something bad is coming, his downfall approaching, but he watches, mesmerised, anyway, a beautiful disaster.

he wonders if he's the first person ever to feel this way. like he could die around leo, _because of_ leo, and he'd be grateful for it. 

ꔫ

"percy, have you ever felt like -" he halts in his sentence, trying to find a way to describe it. he didn't understand himself, ever, and it was all the more difficult to explain it to someone else, "- like, i dunno, you've been dead for so long and someone breathed life into you?"

at this, percy squints, and frank fills with hope - maybe he feels the same way, too. maybe percy, who was worldly and confident and self-assured, went through the same thing he did. his hopes are smashed into pieces when percy laughs and says, "nope."

he wonders who the fallacy is; him, or percy. 

ꔫ

leo's leaning against the fence, letting some kind of contraption crawl up his arm, metal and silver. it has lights for eyes - _kind of like its owner,_ frank thinks - and skitters around aimlessly. "guess that's it for me and calypso," he says.

"i'm sorry," frank says, sincerely, even though he isn't. he really isn't. he's happy, in fact, watching leo gaze into distance while the sun sets behind him. it's a different type of light, softer, the dying sunlight casting shadows on leo's face. 

"nah. it's cool, i think." leo closes his eyes and sighs. when he opens them again, he's smiling, content and happy and real. it's rare, for all the months frank had known him, and he'd never seen leo like this. "don't be sorry." he leans back against the fence. "not like i'm anything amazing, anyway."

maybe it's an insult. to frank, for falling in love with someone who wasn't "anything amazing". he laughs, in spite of it all. it's ridiculous. "even if you're not," he says, "i'll always be there for you." _always. forever. it's not like have a choice._

_the heart wants what it wants,_ his mother used to tell him, long ago, and back then as a child frank didn't know what it meant. he thinks he understands, now, how separate he is from his heart - while throughout everything he hated leo, pitied him, mourned him, his heart stayed wanting. and loving.

that's what it was. love.

"you'll burn." 

and it's funny, frank thinks, just a little bit, how his whole life his destiny was to burn, and how leo's was to ignite. it was a little ironic, maybe a bit twisted, but his heart wants anyway. wants the silent understanding and the admiration from a distance, how every moment with leo felt like a forest fire he was addicted to. wants his downfall, that just so happened to come in the form of leo valdez.

"i don't mind burning if it's for you."

ꔫ


	2. you're the best thing i've seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wouldn't mind it at all. not today, not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sort-of sequel in which frank is, somehow, gayer than before.  
> also i want to write more wlw fics but i'm too busy to write them >:(

ꔫ

once frank realised what it was, there, growing in his heart ever since the summer of two-thousand-and-ten when he met leo, aboard a warship and saving the world - it grows easier and easier to notice, every single time. they say the more you try to deny things, the more they strike out at you. frank doesn't think that's true.

because once he admits it to himself, it's everywhere. from the tingling in his fingers whenever someone mentions leo to the heat in his cheeks, red spreading across his light brown skin whenever leo passed by, waving the tips of his fingers slightly, like a half-wave, hair falling in between his eyes.

frank'd like to say that ever since their conversation near the fence, at the border of the city, in front of the sunset orange skyline, they hung out more - but they really didn't. not for any schedule reasons or for the fact that they didn't like each other, but for the fact that frank couldn't stand to be around him without his stomach churning. without feeling like his soul was growing too big for his body.

so it's fear. he fears that someday, one day, maybe sometime closer than he really thinks - he'll get himself too caught up in the love building in his chest and burning through his heart, making everything hazy. like there was nothing in the world except _leo._

and it felt like that sometimes. sometimes they'd go out on errands, together, and leo would chatter on about something. when they were done, he'd look up at frank, smiling so brightly it reminded frank of the sun (all of leo reminded frank of the sun, actually), fingertips brushing together, and he'd say something funny or affectionate. 

that was on the brighter, livelier days, with light shining down on the rooftops and storefronts of new rome, people strolling through the streets chatting, eating. sometimes there were mellow days, lower and quieter. frank remembers, once, one particular day, with rain slamming down upon the windows.

leo had come right to his door, soaking wet, standing in his doorway with his hair plastered to his face and a nervous grin on his face. he'd let the boy in, of course, but not without confusion and amusement in equal amounts. 

("you're a mechanic -" " _engineer."_ "okay, engineer. and you don't have an umbrella?")

"i needed something," he'd said, while frank watched him with a soft smile on his face, "and also i just remembered that i left it at the bakery. eh. i'll stay here. that's fine, right? we can hang out!" he swung his arm to the right, splashing water everywhere. 

frank had laughed, pushing himself off the table he'd been leaning on. "you're really wet," he'd remarked. leo wiggled his eyebrows, eyes hooded, making frank blush and stutter. it wasn't just the joke - it was - _him._ dripping rain water onto his carpet with a sharp grin drawn on his face.

he'd let leo wear his clothes for the time being, and it had nearly given him a religious experience, seeing the boy he was in love with in a grey graphic t-shirt three sizes too large (maybe more) and black cotton shorts that barely reached his thighs.

frank remembers them together, watching water slide down the glass of the windows, his own hands curled into leo's hair as they laid down on the bed, shoulders pressed together, staring up at the ceiling in silence. at one point, leo'd pressed his face into the crook of frank's neck.

and every night since then frank stares at the spot in his bed where leo had been.

ꔫ

the road is a blur beneath them, dark grey asphalt speeding past.

"don't go too fast," frank warns, and leo just laughs, lighthearted and free and genuine, and it sucks any firmness frank has out of him, and he thinks that he'd let leo go as fast on the motorbike as he wanted to if only to hear him laugh like that again.

it'd always been that way. maybe it's a little pathetic, a little lame, or _lovesick_ as piper's so fond of calling him. he's always had a problem with being a doormat, except now he isn't, with the confidence and the power and the ruling-a-city shtick. no, he isn't much of a doormat anymore, but there was one exception.

(it's leo, of course; frank doesn't know whoever else it could be.)

"chill out!" leo yells back, and frank barely hears him over the engines of the bike and the fast beating of his own heart. leo might pass it off as fear, but he knows exactly why he's so flustered, his chest nearly pressed against leo's back. "we're not going that fast."

at first frank was scared to even climb on the thing, but as soon as they sped off, it wasn't half as nauseating as he'd been expecting. it's almost pleasant, actually, hair whipping around his face in the wind. he's not wearing a helmet. neither is leo. he just hopes they don't get pulled over.

contrary to leo's belief, they _are_ going fast, flying along the road, smooth like the street wasn't bumpy and rocky with jagged stone and glass shards from who-knows-where. it's fast and exhilarating and his heart is beating out of his chest -

and it almost feels just like leo and everything frank had ever felt for him and around him.

ꔫ

it's somehow not surprising and terrifying all at once, when it happens. they're beneath the blankets, pillows piled up against the side of the bed, plush and soft and cozy. their legs are tangling together like string, thighs against the other's and they're so, so close, and frank can barely stand it.

"you're really nice, you know," leo says, whispers, voice so quiet and thin it was almost a breath. his hair's splayed out onto the pillows, and it's dark, and frank can't see him very well - but his eyes glint in the dark like miniature fireworks. "i mean, i know at first you hated me. i don't blame you."

"i never hated you," frank says, and though he regrets the words the moment he says them he keeps going. "i just pretended to because i liked you a lot and i didn't really know how to deal with that." 

leo's fingers come to wrap around frank's shoulders, pressing into his skin, small and callused and familiar, somehow. "i like you a lot, too," he admits. they're so close now, so close frank could see his eyelashes fluttering, count every freckle across his cheek. _leo has freckles,_ frank thinks, stupidly, and he thinks he wants to press his lips to every single one of them.

his hands are on leo's hips now, and frank doesn't know how that happened, but he likes it, fingers tapping against the fabric of his bright orange shirt. it doesn't look as orange in the dark. and leo's biting his lip, a small, soft, grin on his face, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in happiness, lovely as ever.

"i think i'd go as far as to say that," leo starts, nearly trembling in frank's arms, licking his lips and averting his eyes as he smiled, "i _love_ you." frank stares down at him, eyes wide, calm and collected even though on the inside he feels like he's on fire. it's fitting, to say the least. 

"can i -" frank brings his hand up to cup at leo's cheek, palm across his jaw, and leo closes his eyes, leaning into frank's hand, nodding just slightly. when their lips finally meet, frank's heart - no, his whole chest - feels like paper, flames ripping and burning through it.

he doesn't taste like anything in particular, and the kiss isn't even great by any means. but leo's fingers are twitching against his back, across his skin of his cheek, and his own hands are on leo's hips and his face; their legs rearrange themselves under the covers and frank is too hazy to know anything except for the fact that he's happier than he's ever been.

and for a moment, he thinks he's addicted, maybe almost unhealthily so. he feels like persephone entering the underworld, like icarus crashing into the sun. and as long as leo stays _here,_ in his arms, under the blankets, frank thinks that he might be okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally just stream of consciousness please don't judge

**Author's Note:**

> do i project onto frank or leo? it's like i can't decide


End file.
